Flames
by Riona
Summary: Set in DOA2, after Helena beats Ayane my take on the 'flames' cutscene.


~AN: Thank you to my reviewers... I've decided to take the advice of Forsaken. Thank you for your input! ^_^ I apologise to HeavenlyKunoichi for what appears to be a very stupid error of mine. Um... Helena believed that it was Ayane... does that count? *looks sheepish* Where does it say that it wasn't her? Is it in DOA3? I haven't played that... ^_^; DOA2 is the only one I've played, so I apologise for any errors...~

DISCLAIMER: I own a copy of DOA2. Is that the same as owning the rights, characters and plot? Unfortunately not. Dammit.

**~Flames~**

"I don't know what to do with you."

Helena shook her head, gazing down at the unconscious body of her opponent. She had fought with a fury she did not even know she possessed in the battle that had just taken place, and was somewhat surprised that she had the restraint to stop herself from tearing the lavender-haired woman to pieces.

Ayane. The Female Tengu.

Assassin.

_"Wow, you came all the way here?"_

_"You..."_

_"Well, who knows-?"_

_"You! You killed my mother!"_

Why had it happened? Why... why had Ayane – _murderer_ – why had Ayane been assigned to an attempt on her life? What had Helena done that had warranted such an attack?

What had Helena done that had warranted her mother taking the bullet for her?

With some people, bad memories are blurred and faded when they try to recall them – their minds deliberately distorting the memory in order to spare the bearer further pain. Helena was not so fortunate. The image of that fateful night was burned forever into her mind. She had seen it after the battle on the rooftop; she saw it every time she closed her eyes for sleep. She saw it now, as she leant on the railing at the top of the opera house and gazed down upon the stage where it all... where everything happened.

How long ago had it been now? She could still remember every detail of the white dress she had been wearing.

She could still remember the exact sound of the shot, and the moment when her mother fell. She could remember, with terrifying clarity, the sight of blood and _knowing _that her mother was... was beyond help.

She had entered this championship with the desire for truth, and she had found Ayane.

And that was it. Helena, opera singer, daughter of Fame Douglas, was an orphan. And her father had been killed, and her mother had taken the bullet that should have taken Helena herself to the next world.

They had told her that the truth sometimes hurts. They never told her that it would hurt _this much_.

And suddenly she was possessed by a furious hatred of the opera house in which she stood. If she had never been here, if she had never sung, then maybe – just maybe – her mother would still be alive. And she would be at home, not fighting in a stupid tournament for a truth she didn't want to know.

With a cry of sorrow and anger, Helena kicked through the barrier, taking some solace in the satisfying way that it shattered from the impact with her foot. She tore at a beam, but was unable to shift it.

Glaring around for something, _anything _that she could do to ease the pain, her eyes fell upon the nearby rows of seats. As she approached them, unsure of her motives, she spotted what she had been looking for.

A lighter lay wedged between two seats, artificial light glinting off its metallic casing. As she drew it out, she realised that it was leaking fluid. It was, she hoped, still full enough to serve its purpose.

_Click. _

The material of the chairs proved surprisingly easy to set alight, and after setting fire to a few of them, Helena proceeded calmly to the centre of the stage - fully aware that this was insanity, but no longer particularly caring. She stood by the prone body of her mother's murderer, watching – frighteningly emotionless – as the chairs nearest the ones already burning were set ablaze.

Ayane stirred.

"Where...?" she murmured dazedly, raising her head and blinking in confusion. She frowned slightly. "But Kasumi..." Her eyes seemed to focus, and she started.

"HELENA, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

The blonde opera-singer ignored her, keeping her eyes on the blaze.

Bewildered, Ayane leapt to her feet. "You're going to die!"

Finally, Helena turned calmly to regard her. "Of course I'm going to die. Everyone dies."

"But-" The purple-haired girl abruptly shook her head and made for the exit. "I don't have time for this. I have to find Kasumi."

This time Helena reacted, leaping at Ayane and grabbing her, stopping her from leaving. She narrowed her eyes. "You killed my mother."

"Get out of the WAY!" screamed Ayane, striking the blonde across the face with her free hand. "You're INSANE!"

"Maybe. But I still need my vengeance." Helena held up her mother's pendant. "This is all I have left of her, do you understand? This is all!"

The assassin had known fear before, of course. It came with the profession. But never the blinding, panicked terror that rose inside her now at the sight of her intended victim, eyes narrowed in fury, standing in the centre of a blazing opera house.

With a cry of mingled anger and panic, Ayane wrenched her wrist from Helena's grasp and flung herself out of the exit.

Helena moved quickly towards the door, then paused, considered. She would not be able to catch up with the Kunoichi now, not with Ayane's almost legendary speed. She would be unable to exact her revenge.

She had failed.

She hesitated only a second longer, then let her hand fall to her side and turned to regard the leaping flames with cool detachment, no longer caring about the intense, burning heat. The flames grew, setting the door ablaze, cutting off all escape... and still she stood there, making no move, the pendant clutched tightly in her left hand. Making no move, even as the flames began licking at the soles of her boots.

_I'm coming, Mother._

~owarii~


End file.
